Sharps and Hearts
by Acidburn713
Summary: Elizabeta is the new girl, again, thanks to her father's job. Roderick is alone, with only his music and piano for company. Francis is lust-driven and paitient. Only one of these is the student. What could happen?
1. On the Road

HELLO! This is my first story, so sorry about any errors int he spelling and grammar sections of writing. The wrinkles are still being ironed out and will be fixed soon. Anyway, I'm Acidburn713 and this story will about, you guessed it! Elizabeta and Roderich meet at school. France may pop his head in too... DRAMA! Yeah, well I hope you like this.

P.S.  
>Sorry that I deleted the first draft. I'm still getting use to the uploading stories process. 0_o<p>

~SPECIAL MESSAGE FOR KAITLYN AND DANA~  
>You guys have been great for, well, everything but the drink. Yeah, we'll work on that.<br>~SPECIAL MESSAGE FOR KAITLYN AND DANA~

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><p>Sharps &amp; Hearts<p>

Chapter 1: The New Girl

Elizabeta's PoV

_Dear Meg,_

_It's never been hard, being the new girl all the time. It did have some draw backs, but most of the time it wasn't half bad. Most people ask me, "Don't you wish that you could live in the same place for more than a few years?" My answer, no, well not really. I mean, it would be nice if we didn't have to leave, but you get used to it. The move that Apa and I are making now is on of the longest that we have ever made. Apa says that we won't make moves like this very often, he doesn't say why, but I know. It's because on the night of the longest move that Apa had to make we lost Anya. Apa won't talk about it, but I know that he still feels responsible for her death. Even though he wasn't driving, and it was snowing, he still feels that way. That's why he don't le-_

"Anya! Get you head out of the clouds and read this map for me would you?" asked Apa.

"Yes Apa." I answered respectfully as I put away the diary.

With a glance out the window, I noticed that it was growing dark, and we never drove the van in the dark, or when it snowed. I turned my head back towards my father and, with a smile, I took the mess of papers and maps from his left hand. The other was firmly a fixed on the wheel, his steely eyes never leaving the road. Fishing out the single map I needed, I decided to try to bring the subject of my driver's license up again.

"Apa, you know I think you need?"

"What is that Elizabeta?"

"I think you need a nice, long nap. How about we pull over and you rest some? The circles around your eyes are getting darker."

"Beta, you know that we have to be at the new house by tomorrow morning and we still have a long while to drive, I can't take a nap now." He said, ruffling my long dark brown hair with a stern smile.

"Then, well, maybe at the new town I could get my-"

"Out of the question." His gazed turned ice and his smile disappeared.

"You know that we lost you mother, bless herself, to her driving. I don't want to lose you that way to." He was chocking back tears.

"But Apa-"

"No buts, Elizabeta. That's final."

A cold silence settled in the car. I looked out the window; the sun was setting behind enormous mountains in the west, across a prairie of golden grasses. The view was scenic, but the view I wanted was one of black pavement.

"Apa, it is getting late though. We should stop for the night."

He found sense in my words and pulled over.

"Your right, but you're going to be late for your first day of school."

We both smiled and got out of the car, looks like I won't be getting my licensee for a while longer.

Roderich's PoV

The bar was louder that usual as I pushed my way threw the crowds, toward the head of wavy golden hair that stood out against everything else like a candle in a dark room.

"Francis!"

"Roderich! I am so glad that you could make it!" said the golden headed man, turning around to greet me.

"How long has it been?" he asked, giving me a slight hug and a kiss on ether cheek, in the French fashion. (Which I promptly dodged.)

"Three months, but it had felt like years, old friend. How have you been?"

"You know, getting lessons done, preparing for the new classes. Did you know that they cut shop this year?"

"No, really? Must be having a hard time adjusting." I paused, trying to find something to turn the conversation around, "I hope they don't cut Piano, or French for that matter."

The Frenchmen laughed, "Oh, you cheeky little Austrian. The school board will never cut your classes, you have a way with that woman from Belgium, Camille is her name, I think. She has quite the thing for you." He said wiggling his eyebrows.

"You're joking, we have a strictly professional relationship." I retorted, blushing slightly at the thought.

"Seems like some one hasn't thought about a woman for a while," he said, his eyebrows raised still higher, "how long has it been since talked to a woman?"

"Can we not dive into the subject?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. It hadn't been that long, had it?

"Weeeeeeeeellllllllll, if it makes you so uncomfortable…"

I rolled my eyes and turned to the bartender.

"I'll have a glass of wine, the good stuff."

"Make that two."

The Frenchmen had that demonic gleam in his eyes again. _God, this will be a long night,_ I thought.

_Later That Night..._

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><p><em>Acidburn713's two cents: DON'T DO JELLO SHOTS WITH FRANCE<em>

_You'll see why next chapter._

As always, if you have any thing to say to me just leave a comment on my YouTube, deviantArt, or even send me a review. Either way, all I care about is that you read my stuff, not the number of reviews.


	2. Meeting the Frenchmen for Drinks

Sharps & Hearts

Chapter 2: The Composed Composers and His Nightmare

_Later That Night . . ._

Roderich PoV

The room slightly spun as the bar tender brought out another round of little paper cups filled with a jelly like substance. I was never one to drink much, the occasional glass of wine or martini would do it for me, but some how Francis always got me drinking like I didn't have classes the next day.

"Well, mon cher, are you having a good time?" the drunk man asked with perfect clarity, as he grabbed two, well formed women by the waists.

The two women giggled like some of the younger students in my music class, and held on to Francis for support. I rolled my eyes and picked up another shot, chewed, swallowed, and exhaled. A small group of women had started to crowd around Francis and I, each thinking that if they could catch our eyes that they might . . . get lucky. Gently shooing another woman away, I made my way to Francis. I tapped on his shoulder, hoping that I could catch his eye for a moment, to tell him that I had had enough, and was going home. Instead, he turned around, abandoned the women and latched on to my arm.

"Now, now, ladies, have any of you heard of my little friend? Roderich to his close friends, there aren't many ladies, and Mr. Edelstein to his students. See how he squirms?" I stuggled to get away from the man, knowing what he was capable to get a little female attention when he was extremely drunk. "He _hates_ to be handled like a girl, observe:"

Without warning, the man grabbed my other arm quite roughly, and pulled me into a deep kiss. Now, I am not against gays, but this was way too odd for me, seeing that I had to work with him the next day. But I was a wreck that night, it had been a while, so I let Francis take control. I relaxed as he tried to push deeper into the kiss, smirking as he found the solid wall of my lips preventing him. He didn't give up though. Francis was a master of seduction, not that I would ever fall for him, but the man knew his way around a body. As the shrieks and squeals of the surrounding women filled his ears, Francis let go of my arms and slipped his grip farther down, arms latching around my hips. That cocky bastard, he knew how much I hated that. My eyes flared open, along with my mouth, in shock.

But before he could get his slimy tongue anywhere near my mouth I broke the kiss. Which was followed by a sharp back handed slap from me. Slightly shaking, but still smiling, I turned around to leave, only to find women crowding around, trying to get their hands on Francis. I wormed my way out of the hordes of women, lucky that they rushed when they did.

I walked towards the exit, tossing some money to the bar tender and looking back at the Frenchman. He had gotten what he wanted, women filled every possible space around him, the floor, the bar, his lap. I shook my head, wondering if the French teacher would ever settle down and have a family.

_The next morning . . . _

Roderich PoV

I sat down at my piano, thankful once again that I had taken the principles advice and bought the small apartment behind the classroom that I worked in. It was quiet odd, though, living behind my place of work. It was very helpful when I woke up late.

I set to work, pulling out my composers sheet and played what I had already down. The notes filled the air, telling a story of loss and sorrow. The song was tittled, Weeping Days, it was for my late wife that had died a few years ago. As I neared the middle of the piece, a sharp, bitter note rang out. It broke the illusion of the song like a careless child blundering through a dainty spiderweb, still wet with the morning dew.

"Damn G Sharp." I muttered like a curse.

Scribbling on my note pad I failed to hear the well oiled click of the door behind me opening. I was so absorbed in my music that I also didn't notice the cat like foot steps echoing through the large room. Large, warm, and slightly calloused hands plunged my sight into darkness, my hands slipping on the keys, the song ruined. A hot and wet breath was exhaled in my ear.

"I thought I would find you here." whispered a needy voice.

"Yes, I'm here." I whispered back, my breath stolen by the thing behind me.

"Good." The voice purred.

Suddenly the bench I was sitting on disintegrated, a large black hole opening beneath me. I began to fall, slowly, and as I fell the hands covering my eyes were removed and I twisted, trying to see the face of my seducer. Even I twisted and looked, I could not believe it. Like every other night that I had been having this nightmare, the face I saw, was my wife's.

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><p>I woke, panting, the sheets twisted around my legs, trapping me, and cold sweat covering my chest and back. I sat up slowly, still in shock from my dream. i brought my knees to my chest and put my head in my hands.<p>

"I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry." I whispered to myself.

I looked over at the picture on my bed side table. A lovely, young woman with bright green eyes and long brown hair sat on a tall back chair, a book of poems in her hands. She was smiling, she was laughing, she was ALIVE.

"Melody, my dear Melody." Tears dripped slowly from my eyes, landing on my chest.

"My Songbird."

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><p><em>Acidburn713's two cents: Don't sneak up on Roderich unless you want a detention.<br>_

_So, yeah, this just came to me as I wrote and I think that Roderich wanted to have a dead wife and lots of internal conflict. So lets see was happens. XD  
><em>

As always, if you have any thing to say to me just leave a comment on my YouTube, deviantArt, or even send me a review. Either way, all I care about is that you read my stuff, not the number of reviews.


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